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What follows is in response to the 100 Word Challenge, authored by the (Damn, this is hard. I can't call her "Frosty" or "Crunchy" or "Newly Fallen". i gotta think ... Oh. I know .. Nah .. Softly Smothering ain't gonna do it either. I HAVE to think of something ... okay - how about) purely driven Velvet Verbosity. The word this week is "Snow".
He looked up into the sky, each star with a hard edge in the crisp cold of the night. He loved it when it was like this; silent but for the sound of the freshly fallen snow crunching under his boots, his breath turning to fog in front of his face, a rim of frost forming on his eyebrows and eyelashes. He felt what men have felt for thousands upon thousands of years; the oneness with Nature, the alertness, the awareness, the feeling of strength and power and completeness.
"Fred!! Come in the house. Dinner is ready."
The Hunter left.
Ndinombethe.
8 comments:
Set me up! I was just about to say "But he's about to kill an animal" when his wife called. Good one.
dangit! Our tummies rule even the adventurer in us. Nicely done - and, purely driven . . . bwahahaha!
Loved it...those twists get you every time :)
... or it could have been a teenage boy with an active imagination heeding his Mother's call... this would NOT have happened to a hunter on the trail...
Wonderful imagery, I could feel the cold.
Brrr. Good to go into the warm cave and enjoy a roast of wooly mammoth on a cold winter night.
I was there at boots...Robin
I lived in Vermont for a time where hunting was de rigeur for the menfolk. I love your romantic take on it, and I've met that kind of hunter. Unfortunately the smell of alcohol in the air always made me a little queasy about the whole season.
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